Codas
by rosabelle317
Summary: Episode tags, epilogues, missing scenes, etc. from season three. Update: a "Zoo Story" tag where Sharon goes home.
1. Flight Risk

**Notes: **For the sake of organization and not spamming the updates page every week, I'll group all my S3 episode tags and whatnot together this time. I might not do one for _every_ episode, but I really liked doing them last season so there'll probably be a lot of them. There might also be more than one per episode, because I can think of four different things I want to write based off of the promo for next week's episode alone.

**Flight Risk**

When he came in behind her Sharon was bent over the sink, her hands cupped beneath a stream of cool water. Her glasses rested on the narrow ledge below the mirror, but she didn't need them to read the quiet concern on his face. Sharon straightened with a sigh and pressed her wet hands to her cheeks, and then to the back of her neck, her fingers sliding together.

"This is the women's restroom, Lieutenant." She winced when her voice echoed and lowered it to something quieter and more befitting of her mood. "Or aren't you aware?"

"Yeah," he said. "Well, they say your eyesight's the first thing to go."

Sharon felt the pull of a weak smile. "Your eyesight seemed fine to me before."

"Left my glasses at my desk." Provenza shrugged.

She reached for the paper towels. Sharon folded one into quarters, lining the edges up as neatly as she could, and patted her face dry. Carefully, though she wasn't sure why she bothered when her makeup was probably a lost cause and she was headed home from here, anyway.

"I don't hug," Provenza informed her, eliciting from her a strangled sort of laugh. "But since I'm here anyway, if you want to..." He cleared his throat before saying, "Talk about it..."

That lump in her throat, she told herself, was because she had spent the past five minutes staving off tears that so desperately wanted to well up in her eyes. Sharon crumpled the towel in her hand, holding onto it as she reached for her glasses. She had to swallow hard before speaking. "Thank you, Lieutenant," she said quietly. "I appreciate the offer, but I..." She tried to hide the way her hands were reaching for her pockets by turning to throw away the paper towel.

"I miss my children," she confessed, as much to her own surprise as to his. "Cases like this don't help."

He made a vague sort of mumbled "mmm" in response.

Sharon felt her lip twitch again. There was really nothing that would make her feel better but time, though hugging her children to reassure herself that they were alive and safe and not lying discarded like trash beneath an overpass would go a long way towards loosening that knot in her stomach. But she still appreciated that there was someone there to hear her.

"But I will be fine," she said and turned, leaning back against the wall. She could feel the coolness of the tile even through her jacket. "I saw you talking with Rusty."

His sudden discomfort, the way he turned ever so slightly away and cleared his throat again, didn't escape her.

That didn't help her mood any. Sharon folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm not asking," she said. On any other day, it probably wouldn't have hurt, that Rusty had gone to someone else, but it wasn't her right to dictate Rusty's actions like that because her day had been more upsetting than she would've liked. Besides... "I'm glad you're available for him, Lieutenant. But—if you could reassure me that if whatever he's hiding doesn't involve another threat to his life, I would appreciate that."

"He, uh... the kid just needed some advice," he said. "Man to man."

"But he _is_ hiding something." Sharon shook her head at the look he gave her. "Please, Lieutenant, do you really think I can't tell when one of my children is lying to me? Not that Rusty _lies_," she added, and rolled her eyes. "He calls it _having privacy_."

In painstaking detail, she had spelled out for him the differences between privacy and lying by omission a thousand times last year. She was prepared to revisit the lecture if need be, but she hoped it wouldn't. There was a long, long list of perfectly normal things that no one wanted to discuss with their mother, and Rusty would come to her whenever he was ready.

He hadn't been ready, the last time. She had never asked him what had happened in court that had pushed him to tell her, and she couldn't say that she wasn't glad that he _had_ told her, but... The memory of him breaking down in her office still made her heart hurt. She didn't want to put him through that a second time by asking too soon.

He could see her face reflected in the mirror.

"Sharon?"

"I'm fine, Lieutenant," she said automatically. "But... thank you."

Their eyes met, and just for a moment, she thought he might've smiled. "I'll have you know, I'm a very sensitive guy."

She couldn't help it. She laughed, short and quick but a laugh nonetheless, and stood a little straighter.

"Sharon?" Neither of them heard the door open until it was too late.

"Flynn!" Provenza barked. "This is the ladies room."

Sharon gave him a pointed look. He ignored her.

"Yeah," Andy said, leaning back against the door with folded arms. "It's nice. Clean. Smells better."

Provenza sighed loudly and pointed to the door. "Get out."

"And what the hell are_ you_ doing in here?"

"Getting in touch with my feminine side," Provenza drawled. "What's your excuse?"

"Lieutenant, is there something I can help you with?" Sharon broke in.

The two of them, Andy and Provenza, had been at odds more and more around her, recently. She had a very strong suspicion as to what was going on there; she wasn't an idiot. She even found it a little gratifying sometimes, but those weren't thoughts that she cared to entertain tonight.

"I was walking past and I heard this guy—" He jerked a thumb towards Provenza. "In here talking so I thought I'd come and see what was up. Everything okay?"

Whatever was still between her and Jack was something she'd been giving a lot of thought to recently, for all sorts of reasons and she hadn't decided yet what to do about any of them. Until then, what she wanted and what she needed was a friend.

"Everything is fine," she said firmly. "But I do appreciate your offer. That was very... thoughtful of you."

He seemed willing to be that friend.

But tonight, all she really wanted to do was go home and call her children.

Or Ricky, at least. Katie would be working on a Saturday night. Sharon would have to content herself with hearing one child's voice tonight and the other tomorrow morning at the soonest hour that wouldn't earn her a lecture about overreacting.

She was prone to that.

Rusty would be shocked to hear it.

Provenza muttered something she couldn't hear but made Andy glare at him, and Sharon smiled faintly. "You two really _shouldn't_ be in here, and—"

"Hello, gentlemen."

Too late.

Sharon tried not to sigh.

"Captain." Andrea gave her an amused look. "Am I missing something here?"

Sharon felt her face grow warm and crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably. It was really quite difficult to construct a proper explanation for what she was going standing around in the women's bathroom with her two male lieutenants.

"Whatever you think this is, it isn't," Provenza informed her. "Flynn was just leaving."

"After you," Flynn said, pointing towards the door.

"Oh no," Provenza said. "You first, and sometime before I retire, if you don't mind."

Sharon was still smiling faintly when they finally left.

Andrea raised an eyebrow.

Sharon shook her head. "They were..."

"It's been a long day," was all Andrea said.

"Yes," Sharon said quietly. Whatever levity Andy and Provenza had brought left with them, leaving her with the sobering thought that she could go home and argue with her daughter about whether or not she had a long history of unwarranted concern for her wellbeing. Cynthia Logan would give anything for the chance to fight with her daughter again.

If she had been honest with her husband in the beginning, it might have made a difference. There was no way to know, and she would have to live with that.

Sharon had let her believe that her children were alive long after they were dead, and she would have to live with _that_.

The right thing was not always the easy thing.

Sharon swallowed.

"Good work today," she said quietly.

"You too," Andrea said, and leaned back against the wall beside Sharon, close enough that their shoulders just touched. "Buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Some other time, maybe," Sharon said. "The only place I feel like going is home."

"I know the feeling," Andrea agreed. "I was on my way there myself when I came in here."

Sharon didn't laugh so much as let out her breath in a mostly-silent huff that was more exhausted than amused. "I'll get out of your way, then," she said. Halfway to the door, she turned back and smiled. "Have a good night, Andrea."

"You too."

Sharon came face-to-face with Rusty when she opened the door. He stood just outside of it, hovering and shifting from foot to foot like he'd been trying to decide whether or not to go in. He froze when he saw her, a sheepish sort of look crossing his face, and she almost wanted to laugh in spite of herself. "No," she said, and pointed him out to the hall.

He looked relieved to be able to take several steps backwards.

"I saw the lieutenants come out of there?" He gave her a questioning look.

She supposed she ought to be grateful that he'd hesitated instead of barging in to investigate. Sharon sighed. "Don't worry about that. I thought you'd have gone home."

"I was going to, but then I thought I might've left my, uh..." He gave up trying to think up a suitable excuse, not quite looking at her as he said, "You looked upset."

She hadn't expected that.

She could've hugged him.

She didn't.

He probably would have let her. He might not even have minded, but he had been used by too many people and she was refused to be one of them. It wasn't his responsibility to make her feel better. Instead, she touched his shoulder gently in reassurance, and somehow found it within herself to smile. "I'll be fine."

"I could drive on the way home," Rusty offered.

Sharon tilted her head. "Didn't you drive here?"

"It's not a big deal," he said, and shrugged again. "I can drop you off here in the morning before I go to class."

"Rusty," she said, prepared to tell him no. Then she paused and reconsidered, frowning as she studied his face. What if this was him reaching out to her? "You're not driving," she said. "But I wouldn't mind the company. We can stop for dinner somewhere on the way home, and I'll bring you back here in the morning with enough time for you to get to class. Deal?"

She wondered when that made him. When she raised her eyebrow, though, it quickly became a smile and a nod. "Sounds great."

"My purse is in my office," she said. "I'll be quick."

Another shrug. "I'm not going anywhere."

When she returned with her purse she found him slouched against the wall outside of the restroom, toying with the hem of his shirt. He straightened abruptly when he saw her, and she wondered about that too.

"Rusty," she said, her voice low as they moved towards the elevators. "I hope you know that..."

Her words made his shoulders tense. She watched his steps quicken as he lowered his head, and she stopped. He wasn't ready yet.

"That I love you," she said instead. She hadn't planned on that, but... she'd been planning on going straight home and telling her children. She might as well start with the one right in front of her.

He looked startled too. "Is this because of your case?"

"Yes."

"I thought so." Rusty touched the elevator button, his eyes still just avoiding hers. "But I know. I do, I swear."

But he did smile, sort of, even if it was a little crooked, and Sharon found her heart a little lighter after all. Having said the only thing that seemed important, they waited for the elevator together in silence, and when it came, he followed her.


	2. Personal Day

**Notes: **BEST EPISODE. These two are going to kill me, I swear.

**Personal Day**

He let Sharon drive.

She offered, and Rusty told her no the first time. It was enough that she was going with him. It was _more_ than enough. She didn't have to drive him there too. She didn't have to do _any_ of this.

"Oh, it's not a problem." Sharon gave him one of those understanding little half-smiles. Her hand came up to touch his elbow, a calming touch, and only with her standing steady beside him did he realize that he was shifting from foot to foot and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "You're jittery."

She already held her keys in her other hand.

"That would be... nice," Rusty admitted, balling his hands into fists when they started to twitch too. "Okay."

Sharon patted his arm before she released him, and tilted her head towards the car.

They drove the first couple of blocks in silence. Rusty tugged at his seatbelt, sliding his fingers along and around it while his legs bounced restlessly. He stared at the now-familiar landmarks of their neighborhood, the pizza place down the block that they usually ordered from and the restaurant they'd gone to when Sharon had gotten a sudden craving for sushi. The library he wasn't sure he'd ever gone to. The gas station.

"I guess I'm a little nervous," he said at last, when Sharon accelerated onto the freeway.

She hummed, quiet and low in her throat, and waited for him to go on.

"And—I shouldn't be, right?" he said. "I've already been there, and you've already met her. It's just..."

Rusty wasn't sure when he'd started doing this. Talking about his feelings. Long ago enough that he felt practiced at it, recently enough that it was still strange and new and a little scary.

It was probably Dr. Joe's fault. Dr. Joe's influence. Whatever.

But it did help.

Sharon was good at listening, when he let her. She would just _sit_ there, curled up in her corner of the couch with one of her ridiculous mugs of tea, sipping it slowly and nodding while he tried to explain what was going on inside of his head. Sometimes he wasn't sure himself, but she and Dr. Joe both seemed to think that was all right. When he was done, she would offer advice that he was less resistant to taking than before because, as it turned out, she was right most of the time, but sometimes he just wanted to say things and have someone hear them, and she would do that for him, too.

Most of the time, he really _didn't_ understand what Sharon got out of their relationship. Rusty knew that it must be something because she didn't lie to him, ever, and then there were moments when she smiled at him like she'd done at breakfast the other day when it was like she looked at him and thought he was the greatest joy in her life instead of the reason it had all been turned upside down.

Somehow, she thought he was worth all of the threats and all those months of having a security detail camped out on her doorstep, not to mention all of the money she'd spent on his school and his clothes and his food.

Rusty didn't understand how any of that had happened, but he'd tried to stop questioning it. And he didn't care _what_ Sharon said, someday he was going to pay her back, if he could ever figure out how.

"Hey, Sharon?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks again for doing, uh... all of this," he said quietly, watching the smooth movement of her hands on the wheel as she changed lanes. "It... means a lot to me that you're here. And, um..."

The next part was a little harder.

"I—I just wanted to say that you shouldn't be mad at Lieutenant Provenza," he said. "If you are."

Just for a second, her eyes flickered to him.

"She's my mother," he said. "I was the one who didn't tell you. Well... I—I guess he didn't tell you either, but that was because _I_ was supposed to tell you, and I was _going_ to, I—I just... it was harder than I thought it'd be."

He was rambling.

"Some conversations are never easy," she said. Her voice changed, sometimes, when there was something that she really did understand. "Rusty... There will always be issues that you feel uncomfortable bringing to me, for one reason or another. And I'm very glad that when that happens, there are people you feel safe talking to. I am."

He smiled a little.

"But," she went on, "it _was_ a bit of a surprise, and I wish you had shared this information with someone _before_ you went to visit your mother. I don't like no one knowing where you are."

She didn't need to explain why.

Rusty lowered his head. "I know," he said, scraping his thumbnail against the seatbelt again. "I just—I wasn't sure that I'd want to see her again, and I didn't want to upset you for no reason."

"I know," she said gently. "So no, I'm not exactly mad at Lieutenant Provenza. Or at you, either. Okay?"

Rusty just nodded.

Without taking her eyes from the road, Sharon reached over and found his hand. Her fingers slid through his and he squeezed back just as hard, drawing reassurance from the sort of touch that would've made him uncomfortable, once.

He held on until she gently tugged her hand free and returned it to the wheel.

"Sharon?" he asked a little uncertainly, because he wasn't sure that it was really his place to do so. "Have you done this before?"

That earned him another quick sideways glance, and he saw her hands tighten around the steering wheel.

"The circumstances were different, but yes."

He'd sort of gotten the feeling, the other day.

"What circumstances?" He pressed for just a little more.

Sharon shook her head. "Some other time."

But that wasn't a no or even the "that's none of your business" that he'd been expecting.

"Jack's situation is different than your mother's," she said at last. "I'm not sure that it would be helpful to you to hear it right now."

She sounded sad.

"But the experience taught me several things," she added, "and as much as I can, I'll try to use them to help you end up in a better place with your mother than I did with Jack. I do hope that she succeeds in this, Rusty. I do."

"Me too." He wasn't sure that he believed it was possible, really, but he still hoped. "But... you know that I meant what I said, right? I love her, but I really don't want to live with her. I'm happy where I am."

"I know." He saw her smile. "This is a new experience for me too. I've never had to share my children with anyone before."

_I have two kids... and if I have part of a third, I love him too_.

Rusty swallowed, and felt a pang of envy for the two people who were lucky enough to be her actual children. He'd never met them, not really, unless awkward greetings exchanged when he answered the phone while Sharon was in the bathroom counted, and he didn't think that they did. But he hoped that they loved her as much as she loved them. He hoped that they knew how lucky they were.

Somehow, he'd gotten lucky too, because what he'd thought was the worst day of his life had become the best thing that had ever happened to him, and whatever happened with his mother now, part of him was thankful that she hadn't shown up on that bus, because Rusty was pretty sure that he would never have let Sharon love him if she had.

Whatever happened, he was really glad he'd done that.

Really glad.


	3. Personal Day II

**Notes: **Told you I'd probably write more than one for this episode. :DThis one is set after the two Sharons meet but before the scene with our Sharon and Rusty the next morning.

**Personal Day II**

When the knock sounded at her office door, Sharon was barefoot at her desk, rubbing the balls of her sore feet against the feet of her chair. She'd reached the end of a very long day with little of anything left to draw upon, between the case and the sudden and very unexpected reappearance of Sharon Beck. Of Rusty's mother.

It hurt.

Sharon knew who was at the door.

"Come in." She slid her feet back into her shoes. She wasn't ready to go home yet.

"Lieutenant."

"Captain." Provenza looked first to one of the chairs in front of her desk and then to her, and he sat when she nodded. "I believe you wanted to see me."

This, she was ready for.

"I did."

"All right," he said, spreading his arms. "Let's hear it."

When Sharon was really unhappy about something, people never needed to ask.

"If it's any reassurance, Lieutenant," she began, "on the list of things I'm currently not pleased about, you're somewhere near the bottom."

"Should we start there and work our way up?"

"Mmm." Sharon leaned forward, her fingers knitting themselves tightly together as she braced her arms against her desk. "Okay. Here it is. I realize that I interrupted you trying to persuade Rusty to come to me himself, which I do appreciate. And I'm glad that he has you in his life, Lieutenant. Very glad."

God knew Rusty's life needed all the positive adult influences they could find him.

"But... I do _not_ like being blindsided like that, especially when it concerns the welfare _of my child_. Yes, Lieutenant, I know what I said." Her voice grew dangerously low. Sharon took a deep breath and forced her fingers to relax. "I also know that it would never have been an easy conversation for Rusty to have with me, so maybe it was best that we just rip that bandaid off all at once. I'm not sure."

Provenza was still giving her a sympathetic look when she finished.

Sharon sighed, and moved on.

"You've spent more time with her," she said. "What do you think?"

"She seems to think she means it," he said. "For now. We'll see."

Sharon made another _hmm_ and edged her chair forward. "And how did Rusty seem, in the car?"

"He let her do most of the talking," Provenza said. "And he didn't say a whole lot on the way back."

"To me, either." Though that was hardly surprising.

"Where's the kid now?"

"At home." Sharon couldn't help the wryness that crept into her voice. "He told me he'd save me some dinner but that he'd had a very long day and would probably be asleep before I got back."

It was six thirty.

But he'd called to tell her, at least, instead of texting, and he'd sounded well enough when he'd told her good night. She would give him his space. It bought her some more time to plan how to approach him. A light touch would be best, she thought. She wanted to proceed very, very carefully with him.

"It's almost _my_ bedtime," Provenza informed her, "and I believe there were more points on that list?"

That sobered her.

"I don't suppose Rusty's mother—" That cost her something to say, but she supposed she'd better get used to it. Sharon cleared her throat. "Did she happen to mention where she's spent the last two years?"

"She did not. But, uh, I know how you like to have all the facts, Captain, so I made a few very discreet inquiries and politely called in a few favors, and as best I can tell, they went back to Reno and returned to LA County a year ago."

"A year?" she repeated.

"More or less."

That would've been right around the time of Rusty's seventeenth birthday. He'd rebuffed most of her suggestions to celebrate, and he'd thanked her for his presents but only picked at his cake. He'd been mopey and withdrawn at Christmas too... though Sharon wasn't honestly sure that she had been much better herself, because she had been missing her children just as much as he had been missing his mother.

His eighteenth birthday had been a little easier. She thought he'd enjoyed himself more, and she was more relieved than anything else that there would be no more attempts to remove him from her home. He was staying right where he was until he chose to be somewhere else, and he hadn't shown any signs of budging yet.

Sharon could only hope this wouldn't change anything.

She sighed. "And then?"

"Picked up around ten weeks ago," Provenza told her. "Now, they busted Gary for everything from felony distribution to assaulting the arresting officer, so we won't have the pleasure of making his acquaintance anytime soon, but they held Rusty's mother for possession. After having a few weeks to think things over in county, she warmed up to the idea of rehab."

"And here we are." Her fingers were clenched again. "I'm going to ask you for a small favor, Lieutenant. If Gary should miraculously reenter the picture, I would appreciate it if you kept him out of my line of sight."

She hadn't forgotten what Rusty looked like with a black eye and a swollen, bloody lip.

_My mother's boyfriend used to do this sort of thing to me like once a week._

It took a lot to surprise Provenza, but he didn't so much as lift an eyebrow.

Sharon released a deep breath. "I'm also... concerned about the effect this will have on Rusty if his mother decides not to continue her treatment two weeks from now. If she disappears again..."

He would be devastated. Rusty rarely mentioned his mother to her. Sharon hoped he talked about her more with Dr. Joe, but while Rusty sometimes told her what went on during his sessions, he hadn't for awhile. Sharon didn't need to be told that in spite of whatever anger and confusion Rusty felt towards his mother, he'd also spent three years loving and missing her and not even knowing if she was alive.

That was an awful feeling.

She just didn't want to see him with a broken heart.

"He knows it's a possibility," Provenza told her. "He's trying to be realistic about the whole thing."

Sharon wondered what they'd talked about in the car.

"I do hope that she stays," she said quietly. Whatever else she was feeling, that much was true. "Rusty loves her, and if he wants to have a relationship with her, then I want him to have that option."

Provenza cleared his throat. "He loves you too."

"I know." Sharon felt the pull of a faint smile.

Two years ago, she would never have guessed that one day she would be confiding in the lieutenant or looking to him for reassurance. Or parenting advice.

That Rusty was her child had stopped surprising her a long time ago.

Part of her had adopted him the moment she'd come home, thinking that he'd run away, and instead found him waiting for her.

The more sensible part had waited until Daniel Dunn had resoundingly proven himself to be an unfit parent. With his father was out of the way and his mother was gone, Sharon had found herself treating Rusty just the same as she'd treated her other children. For all of the unique challenges that came with mothering him, Rusty was remarkably normal in most other ways. She'd made his lunches and bothered him about his homework, and tried to gently and not-so-gently steer him in the right direction.

It had been enough to privately think of herself as his mother, until he'd turned eighteen and outgrown her guardianship.

That had been on her mind a lot, lately.

But in this situation, what Rusty needed mattered more than what Sharon personally wanted, and what Rusty needed right now was not for her to push him into a conversation that she wasn't sure she was ready to have herself. He definitely wasn't ready, and she was glad now that she hadn't broached the subject. That would be there waiting for them later.

His mother might not be, and they both knew it. That was really what broke her heart.


	4. Letting It Go

**Notes: **You know, for the episode with the most hugs yet, there was a distinct lack of the hugs I _wanted_ to see. (Spoiler: this story contains hugs.)

**Letting It Go**

It had not been an easy day.

There was a sense of satisfaction that went hand-in-hand with solving a case. It was missing almost entirely from this one. Instead, Sharon was aware only of being tired and drained, and it was the sort of evening where the idea of foregoing dinner entirely in favor of an overlarge glass of wine sounded far too appealing. She thought wistfully of curling up on the couch and sipping her drink while watching one of her favorite movies, one of the ones Rusty liked to make fun of her for owning.

It wasn't meant to be.

When Sharon let herself in, Rusty was occupying the couch. He looked up, a sort of deer in the headlights expression on his face, and even as she remembered that he had gone to see his mother and by the looks of things, it had not gone _well_, Sharon couldn't help the way her face relaxed into a smile at the sight of him.

"Hey."

"Uh... hey." He shifted nervously on the couch. "How was your murder?"

Honestly? "I feel sorrier for the woman we've just sent to prison than I do for the man she murdered."

"Oh."

She studied his face. He'd been crying. The tears were gone but his eyes were still red, and there was a sort of puffiness around them, the sort that followed exactly the sort of breakdown she'd been hoping he wouldn't need to have.

She could wait until after dinner to ask him.

"Sharon?" She paused with her jacket halfway down her arms and turned back to look at him. He rocked back and forth on the couch, his arms clasped to his chest and his chin lowered. "Can I ask you something?"

It was an unmistakably defensive posture that he'd adopted.

Sharon left her jacket draped over the back of the armchair, and sat facing him, resting her hands on her lap. "You can."

"Is it hard for you to... I—I mean... is there anything that, like..." She watched him swallow and tighten up, his shoulders locking and the muscles in his throat straining as he fought for his composure. "My mom said that she could forgive me for being gay."

He lost. His face crumpled as he said it, and it was all that she could do not to immediately go to him and take him in her arms, like that would somehow keep him safe. "Rusty..."

"And, um, for what I... did." He lowered his head, avoiding her eyes this time. "She said—she thinks I couldn't help myself."

Sadness abruptly became anger, the sort of cold, righteous fury that she had used against Daniel, and Sharon beat it down, because that wouldn't help him right now. "I'm sorry."

"And I—I know she's _wrong_, okay? I know that now. But..." When his head came up, the look he gave her was almost desperate. "Am I—is that something that you have to overlook?"

"No," she said. "It's not."

When his lip quivered, she was already reaching for him.

"Come here," she said quietly.

She hardly had time to stand before his arms were already around her. He didn't cling to her the way he had that day in her office. He had been begging her for something then, like he'd thought that if he could hold onto her tight enough she couldn't push him away. He just needed comfort now, and reassurance, and she could give him that.

Someday, she would like to hug him just for the sake of hugging him.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear, and felt his cheek rub against hers when he nodded."I will _always_ love you. Nothing you are, and nothing you've done, will change that."

She tried not to sigh when she heard him sniffle, and hugged him closer as she swayed back and forth. "And I'm very sorry that your mother is too sick to appreciate that she has one of the best children she could ever hope to have."

His arms tightened around her ribs.

"You know what the worst part is?" He trembled, but there were no sobs.

She waited.

"I can't stop loving her." Rusty made a strangled sound deep in his throat. "How dumb am I, right? You'd think after everything she's done..."

"It's not dumb at all," she said. "Neither are you."

Slowly, he loosened his arms from around her and stepped back. She could see tears he hadn't shed still gathered in his eyes. He looked away, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Will you be all right?"

He nodded. "It's not like I didn't really see this coming."

She frowned at him, and stepped around him to sit on the couch this time, leaving room for him beside her.

"And... thank you," he said. "For saying that. But it's... I don't think it's just because she's sick."

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"When I was, like... five or... something." Rusty twisted his thumb in the hem of his shirt. "Real little. There was this kid, this other boy. He lived in the apartment downstairs. And—and I liked him. I really liked him."

He looked at her, his mouth slowly closing. Sharon wasn't sure whether he was seeking permission or reassurance, but nodded anyway.

"I think his name was Josh," he said finally. "We'd play sometimes, and I—I think I hugged him a couple of times. That was it. I—I never did anything else. But it freaked his mom out and then it freaked _my_ mom out, and..."

She could guess the rest.

"I thought I'd done something wrong."

"You didn't."

"I know." He sounded less sure this time, but he must've seen her expression because he added, "I do know. It's just that I—I never knew anyone like me. Not until I... and I thought that's what it was. Being gay."

There was still a little waver of hesitation in his voice just before he said it, and she watched him flinch. She wasn't sure that he'd ever really _said_ it before today. Not out loud.

"Come here," she said again, and stretched her arms out to him. He lay his head on her shoulder and she wrapped her arm around him, passing her fingers through his hair.

It hadn't hurt this much with Daniel, because Rusty had never wanted his father. He hadn't even wanted to meet the man, much less go and stay with him. And he'd been right. That had been awful, but they had been able to remove him from Rusty's life once and for all. Sharon had hardly thought about the man since.

But if there was one thing that she knew about Rusty, it was that he loved his mother. He always had, he always would, and there was a part of him that was always going to wish that she was with him, whether she was good for him or not. Sharon had hoped...

Whatever she had hoped for, it wasn't this. Not for him to have been told _again_ that there was something wrong with him, and for him to be hurting so badly that he'd let her hug him twice, because he was still skittish about being touched, most times.

Even as she thought it, she felt him wriggle gently against her arm, and she released him.

He scrubbed his eyes dry again, the gesture making him look more like a child than ever.

She drew a throw pillow into her lap and cradled it against her chest to keep herself from brushing his bangs away from his eyes. Rusty offered her a tiny smile, like _he_ was trying to reassure _her_, and...

Sharon couldn't explain what changed in that moment. It wasn't that she loved him any more or any differently, because she'd been calling him her son for months now and she'd meant it every time. Maybe it was just knowing that he'd given his mother another chance and she had left him _again, _and thinking that he deserved something better. She would work out what it was later.

She supposed it was nice to know that she was still capable of surprising herself, though... she wasn't _entirely_ surprised. Because if there was one thing that Sharon knew about herself, it was that she liked to do things properly. She liked to finish what she started.

And—that was what she wanted to do with Rusty, provided that he would let her. He might not. She would have to broach the subject very, _very_ carefully, because he might love her but that didn't make the situation any less thorny, and there were equally complicated issues on her end of the matter as well, but... if they could resolve all of that, and if she and Rusty wanted the same thing, then she wanted to finish what she'd started the moment she'd brought him into her home. She wanted to be his mother.


	5. Do Not Disturb

**Notes: **Thank you for reading. :)

**Do Not Disturb**

"I told them." Rusty kept his eyes on his burger as he said it, staring at the wrapper until the red logo and the white paper blurred together. He wasn't sure why it was so hard to look at her now, or why he'd been so afraid earlier. It just... was.

"I know."

Carefully, his eyes flickered up to meet hers, and he found her watching him from her side of the booth with that warm expression, the loving one, the one that when turned on him made him feel that everything would be okay.

"You do?"

"I saw you through the window."

"Oh." He twirled a fry through the ketchup cup. "You were right. I had to tell them myself."

Sharon was too nice to say _I told you so_. She just pressed her lips together, and he watched her struggle not to look _too_ obviously satisfied. "And?" she prompted. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"I thought you might." Sharon picked up her own burger, watching him as she ate.

"I know I _shouldn't_ have been so afraid," he said. "I know that none of you guys, like, hate gay people. Okay? I did know that. But..."

"Fear isn't always a rational thing," she said.

"I know," he said. "Dr. Joe and I have been talking about that." He paused, eyeing her as he reached for another fry. "You were right about that too."

Sharon did a worse job of swallowing her smile this time, but somehow managed to make her voice perfectly solemn. "I'm happy that therapy has been useful for you."

So was he.

"Can I ask you something, though?" At her nod, he hesitated, not sure quite how to say it. "It's just that... no one seemed really that _surprised_, and..."

"Ah." Sharon swallowed the last of her burger and wiped her fingers on a napkin before he'd figured it out. Gently, she added, "What was the question?"

"Did you really not tell them?" It felt like something that Sharon would do, making him handle it on his own but trying to make it easier for him anyway.

She shook her head. "It wasn't for me to tell."

"So..." He stared at her, trying to work it out. "They already knew? Wait," he added, before she could answer. "Did _you_ know? Before I told you?"

"I didn't _know_," she said, her head tilting as she watched him. "Not for sure. But I did... suspect."

"Why?" Rusty set down the fry in his hand. A little ball of tension, the same anxiety that had disappeared when he'd made his announcement began reforming in the pit of his stomach. "Because of what I did? Because that was—that had _nothing_ to do with _anything_, and—"

"Oh no," she said. Sharon reached across the table, curling her fingers around his wrist. "No. Give me some credit, honey. I'm an investigator trained to observe people, good at my job, and you've been living with me for two years."

And just like that, it was gone again, and he could breathe in all the way. Rusty exhaled, unclenching his fists. Sharon's thumb rubbed a soothing little circle into the back of his hand, and it was strange how such a little thing could make him feel so... grounded.

"It's really been two years?"

But it had been, he realized, because it was July now, and he'd come to live with her in the middle of August. It felt longer, usually. But in a good way. In the sort of way where it seemed like he'd just _always_ lived with her and Sharon had always been there.

"Almost." Sharon squeezed his wrist before she withdrew her hand, and settled back to watch him with a look he couldn't place. It wasn't a bad one, because she was still smiling, but her head tilted a little the way it sometimes did when she was thinking about something and he couldn't guess what.

But he was pretty sure that she wasn't wishing that she'd sent him back to foster care, so he didn't really care.

"We should do something." Her expression didn't change. "What?"

"I'll tell you later," she said finally. "Much later. And yes, I think this is an occasion that warrants a celebration. Did you have something in mind?"

"Not really," he said, and shrugged. "Cake?"

"At the very least," she agreed, and okay, that was weird. "Think about it. Let me know."

"I will," he promised. Rusty reached for his drink again. "So... why did you suspect, then?"

He thought that surprised her, or maybe she was just distracted thinking about... whatever she was thinking about. Sharon picked up her own drink and leaned back, her feet coming up to rest on the bench beside him as she considered the question. She'd taken her shoes off. Her toes were painted purple this time, to match her shirt.

Rusty watched her sip her drink slowly, trying not to fidget too much while she studied him.

"I can't say," she said at last, folding her arms. "Something in the way you interacted with people. Intuition. I'm not sure."

"Oh," he said. As long as it wasn't because of the hustling. But if she said that it wasn't, then he believed her. "And everyone else?"

"You'll have to ask them."

That was probably the only thing more awkward than telling people that he was gay. Asking them if they'd thought he was gay all along and why, if they had. "They never said anything," he said. "Neither did you."

"No," she said. "It wasn't really about whether you were gay or not. It was what you felt comfortable sharing with us."

"I guess... I guess I had to be okay with it myself first," he said. "Before I could say anything. And I needed to trust everyone."

Sharon nodded, encouraging him to go on when he hesitated.

"I was a little worried about Lieutenant Provenza," he admitted. "More than anyone else."

"The thing about people," Sharon told him, "is that they change. Some for the worse, but sometimes... when the people they love need them to grow, they do. And sometimes, the people who are capable of doing that surprise you. Lieutenant Provenza is certainly not the man I sent to sensitivity training thirty years ago."

He stared at her. "You've known Lieutenant Provenza for thirty years?"

"Twenty-eight," she said. "I transferred into internal affairs after my daughter was born. And not a _word_ out of you about how old that makes me, are we clear?"

He thought she was trying very hard to look stern.

He looked down to hide his smile.

Sharon bit the end off another french fry and didn't bother to hide hers.

"I could've been a judge by now," she said, her smile becoming something more contemplative, as she twirled her half-eaten fry between her fingers. "If things had worked out differently."

He wasn't sure where that had come from. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes," she said. "To be a judge, you have to start as a lawyer. I wanted to be a prosecutor and work my way up from there. It's hard to imagine now, what that might've been like."

She didn't sound too upset about it.

"People change," she repeated. "Sometimes in ways that we don't want them to, but what we want changes too."

"Like my mom."

Sharon gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry she said those things to you."

"Me too." He hadn't even told her all of it. Rusty swallowed. "Like you said. I love her."

"I know."

"But I'm not sorry, either." He stared down at the pile of food wrappers and napkins in front of him. "And I'm really, _really_ glad that I haven't been with her and her boyfriend all this time."

"So am I," Sharon said quietly, and cleared her throat. "Speaking of boyfriends..."

His spine stiffened.

"Someday—not tonight, but someday—you and I are going to talk. There are things that I want you to know."

That wasn't where he'd thought that was going. "Sharon..."

She ignored him. "Everything that I wish that _I_ had known."

That quieted him. "Oh."

"You might decide you never want to get married," she told him. "And that's fine too... but if you do, I hope it's to a better man than I did."

_Now_ she sounded sad.

He'd never really... thought about that. Mostly because it was weird, thinking about Sharon dating anyone, but he guessed that he'd always sort of assumed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she didn't want to be. No matter what Jack had said, Rusty was pretty sure that Sharon _wasn't_ still crazy about him, but if she hadn't divorced him in twenty years there was probably a reason for it.

But if she _wanted_ something that she didn't have, well... Rusty couldn't think of anyone who deserved happiness more than Sharon.

"Some other night," she told him, and shook her head. "There's no rush."

Rusty just nodded his head. And he'd thought coming out had been awkward. He was pretty sure that Sharon giving him relationship advice would be way, way worse.

"I want you to be happy." She gave him one of those intent looks, the kind that made him squirm uncomfortably even when he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. "All right? Happy and _safe_."

"I know, Sharon."

She lowered her feet to the ground one by one, shifting slightly as she worked them back into her shoes. "Almost done?"

There were a couple of cold fries left on his tray. Rusty shook his cup, listening to the ice rattle around in the bottom. "Just about."

"I'm going to run to the restroom, if you don't mind cleaning up," she told him. "Then home. Sound good?"

He nodded. "I've got some studying to do."

He was pretty sure that he was going to go to college now. It was still kind of a foreign concept to him, but most of his friends had gone, and it was important to Sharon, and it didn't seem _that_ bad, when he thought about it. But four more years of homework still sounded like forever.

"I'll be quick, then." The back of Sharon's hand brushed against his shoulder in another of those little touches as she stepped past him. Rusty didn't know if it was encouragement or reassurance, or even if it was for his sake or for hers. He would've been okay with either.


	6. Jane Doe 38B

**Notes: **DIVORCE IS MY NEW FAVORITE WORD. Also, technically, they've now fulfilled my "three hugs and a divorced" wishlist (I think we're even at four hugs!) Unfortunately, none of them were the hugs that I wanted, but I WILL TAKE THE DIVORCE. This was written mostly because I really, really enjoyed watching Sharon being entirely out of fucks to give when it came to Jack.

**Jane Doe #38B**

Sharon mailed the papers early Wednesday morning. She stopped by the post office and sent them via certified mail, and proceeded on to work with her heart lighter than it had been any time in recent memory. The postal clerk told her three to five days, if Jack was there to sign for delivery on the first try. He appeared on Friday afternoon. She was in her office, eating lunch at her desk, and he barged in without knocking.

What a surprise.

"What the hell, Sharon?"

Two and a half days. Ahead of schedule.

And nearly two and a half decades too slow.

Sharon ate another spoonful of yogurt without rising. "Not even a hello, Jack?"

If looks could kill...

"Hello, Sharon," Jack ground out, through obviously gritted teeth. "Would you mind explaining to me what the hell you think you're doing here?"

With deliberate care, Sharon set her spoon down atop her napkin, and placed the yogurt container beside it. She brushed the crumbs from her already-eaten sandwich into her cupped hand and then dropped them into the trash, rubbing her hands to clear them while Jack watched impatiently.

"It's very simple," she told him. Sharon leaned back in her seat, smoothing down the front of her blazer. "I'm divorcing you."

She'd said it to Rusty. It had felt real enough then, but she had been worried and disappointed and oh-so-angry, with Jack and with herself for having gone to him before Rusty. It had made sense at the time, right up until the moment that Jack's name had left Rusty's mouth and her heart had almost stopped right then and there.

She'd wanted to ease Rusty into that conversation gently, with plenty of reassurance that she understood if this was an arrangement that he wasn't open to for whatever reason and taking extra care to explain that this was supposed to be for his benefit, not hers, and that nothing would change between them if he didn't want to proceed, because she could think of not a single thing that would make her love him any less. Although, in that case, she would have pushed him to designate _someone_ as his power of attorney in case of an emergency, because it was certainly true that she worried about him the way a mother would.

And could he blame her, because how many times now had someone tried to kill him? What if he ignored all of her warnings and was in an accident because he was trying to text his friends while driving on the freeway, or required surgery because his appendix ruptured, or—or was struck by lightning? No, she would sleep better at night knowing that in case of disaster, she could take care of him.

It was an explanation that Jack didn't seem to be open to hearing, not when he was still standing over her desk and fuming.

"You had me served with divorce papers at _work_?"

"Well," she said evenly. "I'm not sure where you're staying these days, and you so generously brought Rusty by your office the other day. He remembered the address for me."

"Wait wait wait," he said. "Wait just a minute here, Sharon. I told you that I needed some time to think about things. I don't know if you realize this, but it was a bit of a bombshell that you dropped on me there, and it's only been a few days—"

"And I told _you_," she returned, "that I had not yet spoken to Rusty about the adoption, I _told_ you that I was waiting, and _you_ brought it up to him anyway."

Jack was very, very luck that Rusty had taken it well. He'd taken it _very_ well, actually. Certainly much better than she had thought was reasonable to hope for. She wasn't sure yet what to make of that. Was it a sign that he was thinking about it? Had he not processed it all?

So far, his concern had been first for her and the trouble he saw himself causing her, and then for her other children (he'd said it himself, and she was trying not to read too much into that, but...), and lastly for his other mother, he one he loved and would always love regardless of how many time's she'd hurt, disappointed, or abandoned him. Sharon wasn't sure what that meant for them, either. She couldn't help being hopeful, even as she was trying to prepare herself for the heartbreak that was sure to follow if he opted not to.

But God, she hoped that he would say yes.

"Let me get this straight," Jack said. "You're telling me that after twenty years—"

"Twenty three, to be precise."

"After twenty years, you're divorcing me because I told Rusty that you wanted to adopt him? Really?" He shook his head at her. "I mean, really?"

"Oh, it's not the _only_ reason, I assure you."

It had only been the tipping point.

It was strange, how she had not a single regret. She'd thought that she would. She'd thought that she would feel some sorrow for the end of her marriage, but the truth was, she'd mourned and buried it decades ago. She hardly recognized the man standing in front of her today, and if the man that she'd married was still in there somewhere, she would have to search long and hard for a glimpse of him.

"Sharon, we need to talk about this." Jack's voice drew her out of her thoughts.

"There's nothing to talk about," she informed him flatly. "I need your consent for an adoption, not a divorce. My mind is made up, Jack."

"You can't just _do_ this, Sharon. We've been married for over thirty years—"

"We haven't lived together in over twenty—"

"I'm your _husband_."

"Not for much longer." That felt rather... freeing to say.

"I really think we should discuss—"

"The only discussion I am interested in having," she said, "is how, in exchange for me not suing you for sixteen years worth of back child support with interest, _you_ are going to agree, in writing and in the presence of my lawyer, that you're not going to touch my pension or my bank account."

"And I told _you_ that I don't owe you—"

"Of course you owe me!" It was nice, to be the one talking over him, for a change. "What, did you think I had a child support order in place for fun?"

"We're married!"

Was he even a lawyer?

"I'm sorry," she said coldly. "I don't really have time to explain the law to you right now. Make use of the education I helped you acquire and look it up for yourself."

"Sharon," he said, his voice climbing in volume.

She lifted her chin, staring back at him without rising from her chair.

He lowered his voice. "This is about you not going to law school? Because, I have to tell you, that's a hell of a long time to hold a grudge, even for you."

"It's not about law school," she said. "And it's not about Rusty. It's about me, and about your children, and how for quite some time now, I've found it more disadvantageous than not to be your wife."

"That wasn't what you were saying a few days ago," he reminded her.

"It was, actually."

"Being married to me had its advantages," he said. "You said so yourself."

"Twenty years ago. When people cared more. When I still thought we might work out."

It no longer hurt, releasing that.

"You're not innocent in all of this, either," he told her. "If you've just been using me."

"What else, exactly, do you think is in this marriage for me?" she demanded. "Financial stability? Companionship?"

His eyes narrowed, at that. "Rusty told me that you weren't seeing anyone."

"I'm not," she told him. "And that you think Rusty is an appropriate person to ask that question to—"

"He lives with you. If anyone would know, it'd be him."

"He's my son."

He hadn't expected her to say it quite so vehemently, she didn't think. Not with the way his eyes widened, and for all that he was towering over her, he took a step back. "He agreed to the adoption, then?"

"Not yet." She wasn't sure why she was telling him, after the mess he'd gone and made of this already. "He doesn't need to. I'll love him anyway."

"So why do all of this, then?" Jack asked. "Why put us, and our kids, through this? He can live with you. You can put him through college. You can call yourself his mother. You don't _need_ to adopt him."

"Because," she said. "I like to see things through until the end."

"Except marriage, apparently."

That still stung, some, but it didn't hurt the way that it would have, once. If he didn't see the irony there, she no longer felt compelled to spell it out for him.

"Yes, well," she said. "When I find myself with conflicting commitments, I choose to respect the one I made to the person who respects _me_. Is that sufficiently clear, or should I have my lawyer explain it?"

She rose to her feet while that sunk in, and spoke before Jack could think of a reply. Whatever came out of his mouth would only irritate her, and she didn't owe him an explanation. Not today, and not ever again. She wasn't going back to that.

"It was good to see you again, Jack," she said, and smiled pleasantly. "I'll be in touch with you through my lawyer. Do I need Detective Sanchez to show you the way out?"


	7. Two Options

**Notes: **Yaaay, adoption!That little moment with them at the end of this episode made me so HAPPY. I would love to see them have a real conversation about it in the next episode, one that doesn't involve dead girls. This story? Is not that conversation.

**Two Options**

"Do I have to call you Mom?"

Rusty had managed to bring up the adoption stuff casually before, plenty of times. Or, well, a handful of times. They hadn't talked about it in depth yet, but he could tell that Sharon wanted to. She probably wanted to sit him down and discuss every last detail, but she was waiting for him. Rusty knew they'd have to sooner or later—she couldn't just adopt him without them ever talking about it, but it wasn't like she was going to do that _tomorrow_, either, and he didn't want to have the big discussion until it had sunk in a little more.

So he'd segued into it from conversations about Jack and dead girls who had made him wonder if he would've been them, if Sharon hadn't found him. (Probably.) This strategy had been working out well for him, right up until an adoption-related thought occurred to him while Sharon was working a case that involved no mothers and no children, and she hadn't said anything recently that he could latch onto and try to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

If he brought up Jack... he wasn't sure how that would go. Not very well, probably, because Sharon wasn't exactly chatty about her marriage and she was talking even less about her divorce. She hadn't said a word about it to him, but he'd seen the paperwork sitting on her desk, so... that looked like it was definitely still happening, but if she hadn't said anything about it, she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he brought it up.

Rusty sat on it for two days with the hope that a solution would present itself to him, and then gave up and blurted it out over dinner.

They were eating Greek that night. It wasn't Rusty's favorite, but he didn't hate it, either, and it was Sharon's turn to pick where they got the take out from. He guessed that she'd gotten a craving for gyros while at work, because she'd walked through the door with a sandwich combo for each of them and a side of hummus and pita bread.

When he asked, Sharon slowly set down her fork, and held up a finger while she finished swallowing.

"With the adoption thing," he added unnecessarily. Something to fill the silence.

Sharon folded her hands, her fingers lacing themselves tightly together, and gave him a long, serious look, part affection and part worry. He couldn't tell what she was reading into the question. "No," she said finally. "You don't have to."

"Because, um..." Rusty lowered his eyes back to his plate. She'd gotten him fries instead of a salad and he reached for one now, toying with it as he tried to explain. "I know that you'll be my mother. And I'm okay with that."

"Legally speaking, yes."

Sharon reached for her wine. She didn't drink from it, just weighed the glass in her hand while she waited for him to speak again. It was one of those things that she always did when she was thinking or upset, and he wasn't even sure if she knew that she did it. It had annoyed him once. _Everything_ about her had annoyed him, Sharon with all of her stupid habits and her dumb rules, and... really, just _everything_, including her face and her voice.

Rusty wasn't sure what had changed, but it had probably been him, because Sharon was just as exasperating as she had always been.

She'd signed his community service form the other day. He'd thought that would be the end of it, but then she'd informed him that he was going to work off the remaining fifteen hours that he owed her because he shouldn't have waited until the last minute. He'd really thought that the undercover SIS assignment counted? Well, he should have read the form more carefully then, and if he complained about it again, it would be twenty.

Rusty... wasn't actually sure why any of that had surprised him.

That was Sharon.

He understood now why that TV writer friend of Lieutenant Tao's had taken one look at the pair of them and assumed that Sharon was his mother. She sort of acted it like it all the time.

"Not..." Rusty swallowed dryly, his eyes still fixed firmly on his plate. "It wouldn't be... uh, not _just_ legally."

When he glanced up again, she was giving him a sideways sort of look, her lips pursed like she was afraid to smile too much. She wore that expression around him an awful lot.

He was getting as close as he ever had to saying it.

He wasn't quite there yet.

"Rusty," Sharon said gently, her face settling into something more sober. "I don't want to adopt you so that I can replace your mother."

He knew how she felt about him. It was hard _not_ to know at this point, because she'd told him. She'd always stopped just short of naming herself his mother, but she'd sort of almost called him her child enough times that it was impossible to miss. It turned out that he didn't mind, as long as she understood that she was sharing him with his mother. She did.

He'd finally figured out that loving her and letting her love him didn't mean that he cared about his mother any less. He could do both.

Sharon was all right with that.

His mother probably wouldn't be, if she knew, but it was by her own choice that she wasn't there. If she ever came back, then he'd tell her, and she would have to figure out how to be okay with it.

"I know," he told her. "Like I said, I'm okay with the adoption. But... if you wanted me to call you Mom, I don't know if I can do that. It's kind of weird."

Everything about this was weird, when he thought about it. Orphans weren't supposed to have both parents still alive. Adults weren't supposed to be adopted. Catholic police captains weren't supposed to unconditionally accept the gay hustlers they'd taken in off the streets.

Rusty wasn't really sure how things had worked out for him, but he'd stopped trying to second guess it.

"So... that's, like, okay with you, then?"

Relief softened her face. Rusty wondered what she'd thought he was going to say, but he didn't ask. This was enough emotionally charged conversation for one day.

"The important thing is that we decide that we want to be family," she told him. "What you call me and whether or not we share a name doesn't matter, not to me."

Of course she'd say that. Sharon was still half trying to pretend that the adoption was all for his sake, like she thought that she would scare him away by admitting just how much she wanted him. Which... okay, that wasn't just her worrying for nothing. He'd told her himself that he cut people off when they got too close.

Not her.

That was what he'd been trying to tell her, when he'd said that he knew that she would come looking for him, if his picture ever ended up in a box like that. It wasn't just about that. Oh, but he knew she would do it—she would find him and by the time she was done, he'd be feeling sorry for whoever put him in the box to begin with because she was terrifying when she wanted to be and she had a small army of people to help her, and Rusty was really, really glad that they were on _his_ side.

But that wasn't all.

He'd been trying to tell her that he trusted her, and that he was ready to let himself depend on her.

Sharon loved him. He wasn't sure why, sometimes, but he knew that she did, and she'd also been mad at him plenty of times without ever hitting him, kicking him out, or leaving him at a zoo.

Rusty frowned at his plate.

"I might change my mind someday," he said. "But for now... Mom is her."

Which was kind of ridiculous, too, because Sharon was, like, _way_ better than his mother, and also way better _for_ him than his mother, but he still couldn't stop loving her. Rusty wanted his mother to get better, and he wanted her to be able to love him the way that Sharon did. He wasn't sure when that had happened, either, because he'd spent a lot of time wishing that Sharon were her instead of the other way around.

"Well," she said evenly, and took a sip from the wine glass she was still holding. "I'll be here if you do."

"And, like..." He wanted to be sure. "When I said you could adopt me... you know that it wasn't _just_ because I know you'd look for me, right?"

Sharon allowed herself to smile at him then, the same sort of smile she'd given him when he'd agreed to the adoption. "I do."

"Okay," Rusty said, and returned to his food.


	8. Sweet Revenge

**Notes: **Ricky grew on me once he pulled his head out of his ass, although I can't for the life of me figure out why he thinks Jack Raydor is someone who puts forth credible opinions. There might be another story if I ever work it out. As always, thank you for reading. :)

**Sweet Revenge**

When Rusty walked into the living room later that morning and found Ricky waiting for him, he wasn't entirely surprised. Partly because where else was Ricky going to be when Rusty had the car keys (he'd sort of—okay, fine, more than _sort of—_held onto them on purpose), and partly because he'd been woken up by the tail end of the argument that Sharon had had with Ricky earlier.

It hadn't sounded like a pleasant one. Not that there were ever _good_ arguments when Sharon was on the opposite side, but the worst part about arguing with Sharon was that she was usually more sad and disappointed than angry. Rusty suspected that she did that on purpose, because whenever she yelled, he had no problem yelling right back. Whenever she did the thing where she started rubbing her forehead and blinking a lot, then the only thing he wanted to do was apologize and escape to his room until she stopped looking like she wanted to cry.

The point was, if guilt worked half as well on Ricky as it did on him, then Rusty knew that the moment he entered the living room, Ricky would be wanting to talk.

It tied his stomach up in knots. Somehow, this had all gotten out of hand, but he couldn't hide in his room forever.

"Hey."

Sure enough, Ricky was sitting on the couch, facing the hall like he'd been waiting, his legs taking up all of the room and his laptop balanced on his knees.

"Uh... hey." Rusty gave him a cautious glance, stopping at the end of the hall.

Ricky closed his laptop and set it to the side. "Mind if we talk?"

They'd have to do it eventually. Might as well be now.

There was no more room on the couch. Which was fine with Rusty, because it wasn't like he wanted to sit next to the guy anyway. He wouldn't have minded dragging the armchair back a couple of feet, either, but he left the chair where it was and sat, waiting while he watched Sharon's son stretch his stupidly long legs.

Seriously, Ricky was, like, super tall. Sharon wore heels to be taller than everyone (or because she liked them? Rusty had no idea), and the top of her head hardly came up to his chin.

Rusty leaned back in his chair, arms folded, chin set, and waited.

Ricky ran a hand through his hair (his _hair_) and rearranged his legs again, this time straightening up to sit cross-legged.

"Uh..." Ricky cleared his throat. "Mom brought it to my attention that, uh, it's possible I may have been... operating without all of the pertinent facts."

Yeah. He was Sharon's kid all right.

"If that's your way of trying to say that you're sorry..." He hadn't actually _said_ it, but still. "Then I accept."

"Really?" Ricky frowned at him, skeptical again and come _on_, hadn't he just kinda sorta apologized for that like two seconds ago? "Just like that?"

Rusty shrugged.

Ricky continued to stare at him.

Did he have to spell _everything_ out? He was used to Sharon intuiting everything he meant to say, but he guessed that Ricky didn't have to be people smart.

"Just so you know," he said, "I never asked Sharon to adopt me, okay? That was all her idea, and the last thing I wanted was to cause problems for her. She said you'd be fine with it. That's why I agreed."

"You didn't _have_ to agree." Ricky winced as soon as the words were out. "Sorry."

"Dude." Rusty tried very, very hard to keep a level tone. "Do you just, like, not know Sharon at _all_?"

Sharon always got exactly what she wanted, somehow. Rusty wasn't sure how she did that. Or how she ended up being right all the time.

Ricky gave him a sideways look, and sighed. "Look... I'm not saying that I _like_ it, but Mom and I, uh... talked, and—"

"Really?" Rusty challenged. "Because it sounded more like she was yelling at you."

Ricky paused. "You heard all that?"

"Well... no," he admitted. "Not _all_ of it. Just the yelling."

"Oh."

Rusty wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. He didn't even _like_ Ricky, really, but it was still... kind of uncomfortable. Because he knew that Sharon was on his side, okay? He _liked_ that Sharon was on his side, because she was basically the first person to _ever_ be there, and that was great as long as they were talking about the other side consisting of serial killers. Or his father. But Sharon had sacrificed an awful lot to be on his side, and her other kids didn't need to be one of those sacrifices..

That was never what he'd wanted.

"And, just for the record?" he added. "This whole brothers thing was so not my idea."

"Yeah. I figured."

"Okay." As long as they were clear on that. "Because I don't, like... expect that."

There was a longer pause this time. "Do you have any?"

"Huh?"

"Brothers," Ricky clarified. "Or sisters."

Oh. Rusty shrugged. "Not that I know of." And he'd never wanted any, not from his mother. Who knew anymore, though? She'd been gone for three years. That was plenty of time to have a kid or two. Daniel hadn't even known about him. There could be others. For all Rusty knew, he had twenty siblings out there somewhere.

"Yeah," Ricky said. "Same. I didn't mean _you_," he added, when Rusty opened his mouth.

"Uh... you do know that Sharon's not hiding anyone else in here?"

"I meant my father." Ricky grimaced. "Mom's pretty upset that I listened to him. So am I, now."

It hadn't been his best move, Rusty agreed.

"Look," he said. "I don't, like, know what he said to you that made you come down here, but I get it, okay? Because if Sharon brought home some other kid tomorrow, that would be... it'd just be weird." Maybe it was a good thing that he'd never had any brothers or sisters, because there was an uneasy quiver in his stomach just thinking about it. He wouldn't want to share his mother, either. "It'd be _really _weird, and you've known her a lot longer than I have."

Ricky looked surprised. "Thanks, I guess."

Rusty shrugged.

"Mom's made it pretty clear that she plans to keep you." Ricky gave him another look, sizing him up. "And I'm not going anywhere, either, and neither is Emily."

Maybe Emily should've come with him. Rusty didn't talk to her a whole lot, either, but he liked her better.

Rusty stared guardedly back at him, unsure of where this was going. It wasn't exactly new information, was it?

"You want some breakfast?"

Rusty blinked, and then shrugged. "Sure."

* * *

Sharon hadn't expected to come home and find him and Ricky playing chess at the dining room table, Rusty could tell. They both looked up when she entered and she paused too, breaking her stride just for a second. Her hand came up, her fingers curling around the straps of her purse, and her eyes narrowed, just a little. "What's going on here?"

"Chess," Ricky supplied. "Did you know it's all Rusty thinks about? You've got to let the kid watch TV sometimes, Mom."

For Sharon's sake, Rusty bit his tongue and didn't protest being called a kid. Again.

"Oh, I can assure you that Rusty's not suffering from a lack of adequate television time." The dry edge left Sharon's voice as she looked between them again. "But you're playing chess _together_?"

Her voice was smaller then, softer, and her other hand joined the first, her wrists crossing over her heart.

"We kinda did a lot of things together today," Rusty said. And sure, they'd gone to see _Guardians of the Galaxy_ because it was the sort of thing they could do together without having to actually talk to each other, but Ricky hadn't had to buy him nachos.

"You... did?"

"Mom," Ricky said softly. "I told Rusty, but I want to tell you too. I'm sorry. I..."

He didn't get much farther. Sharon took two steps forward just as Ricky stood, and he let her walk into his arms.

He could rest his chin on the top of Sharon's head. It was ridiculous and unfair and it kind of made Rusty feel like a little kid, because he was only ever taller than Sharon when she was barefoot. She looked weirdly small with Ricky dwarfing her but her arms were tight around him. Rusty had been on the receiving end of one of those hugs a couple of times. Sharon could hold on.

... but it seemed like Sharon didn't want to let go of Ricky _ever_, and it turned out that watching other people hugging was just as awkward as _being_ hugged himself. Rusty stood and tried to step around his chair quietly.

He wasn't even sure that either of them remembered he was there, really, and they probably had a lot to talk about, he didn't want to interrupt...

He'd only made it a few steps backwards when Sharon's head came up, and she took a step back from the hug. She half turned towards Rusty, beckoning him closer with her other arm still wrapped around Ricky's waist. Rusty shot her an alarmed look and shook his head. He didn't do group hugs. He hardly did _regular_ hugs.

But Sharon motioned at him again, more insistently this time than the first, so Rusty took a few hesitant steps towards her. She caught him when he was close enough, her arm sliding around his shoulders. It was the sort of almost-hug that he could live with.

"I would just like to say," she started, and there was a little hitch in her breath that made Rusty's chest tighten. "That the both of you are so, _so_ important to me." She squeezed Rusty's shoulder, and from the way Ricky stumbled a little closer, Rusty could tell she had an iron grip on him too.

"I know, Mom," Ricky said quietly.

Sharon turned to him next, shifting her grip on him without loosening her hold. "Okay?"

"Okay, Sharon."

He watched her smile as she tilted her head against Ricky's arm. "And I really appreciate the effort that you're both making right now. Thank you."

"Yeah," he mumbled, and heard Ricky make a similar sound of agreement.

Sharon squeezed once more before she let him wriggle out of her hold, nodding towards the board set up on the dining room table. "I think we have time for the two of you to finish your game before dinner."

"We were just about finished anyway," Rusty told her.

Ricky took his seat again. "Rusty was just about to win. For the twentieth time in a row."

Sharon laughed, stepping closer to Ricky's chair. Even sitting down, he was almost taller than she was. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders again. "He does that," she agreed ruefully. "I've instituted a ten move rule whenever we play."

"Mom." Ricky actually rolled his eyes. "Always rules with you."

Rusty looked down to hide his smile.

Okay. Maybe Ricky wasn't _all_ bad.

If nothing else, it would be nice to have someone who understood how _fixated_ Sharon could be.

"That's right," Sharon said. Her eyes flickered to Rusty. "Or, if you think you could find it in your heart to spare his self-confidence, I believe there's several takeout menus in the kitchen just waiting to be agreed upon. What do you say, Rusty?"

It seemed to Rusty that Ricky had self-confidence to spare, actually, but he _was_ hungry.

"Dinner sounds good to me."

"But we could play another game later," Ricky suggested. "After dinner. If you want to."

He wasn't sure if Ricky was only offering because Sharon was standing right there and they both knew it would make her happy, but... if Sharon was going to be so determined for all of them to be stuck together for the rest of their lives, he and Ricky were going to have to at least be friends, and they both knew it.

"Yeah," Rusty said. "Okay."


	9. Zoo Story

**Notes: **Booooo, hiatus. *sad forever* BUT that means I can write all my other stories again now that there is no paralyzing anxiety about what's going to happen next on the show to stop me. And how perfect was Sharon in this episode? And terrifying. Really, really terrifying.

**Zoo Story**

Sharon went home.

To _her_ son.

To the brilliant, funny, caring young man who still harbored love in his heart for his mother.

_Do you still do that work you did on the side?_

Her hands were still trembling in anger when she reached into her purse for her keys, and she released a long, slow breath when her fingers closed around the keyring, clenching until the ridges dug into her skin. God oh God, that video.

She willed herself as close to calm as she could manage before she opened the door. There was a certain amount of relaxation that happened of its own accord every time she crossed the threshold, a certain amount of tension that released itself with the knowledge that she was home safe in her own space. That helped.

She could hear Rusty in the kitchen. "Sharon?"

"It's me."

She set her keys and her purse on the bureau near the door and stepped out of her shoes one by one. She shrugged out of her jacket next. She held it hugged to her chest as she rocked back and forth in her stocking feet.. Her boots were in her bedroom, but she wasn't heading there just yet. Sharon left her jacket folded across the back of her couch on her way to the kitchen.

Rusty moving around the kitchen fixing dinner was usually a sight to make her smile.

Tonight, it just hurt.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey."

Sharon _did_ smile then, and watched him slice a potato into neat, even cubes. "What's all this?"

"You've been at work for, like, three days," he said. "So when you said you were finally coming home..."

The lump had never really _left_ her throat, but it swelled at that. Sharon swallowed hard as she eased herself up onto one of the bar stools. "I'll get changed and come help you in a moment."

Rusty set down the knife he was using, his eyes flickering to and from her. "Did you talk to my mom yet?"

Sharon nodded, slowly working her feet against bottom rung of the stool. "I did."

"Thanks," he said, his eyes sliding sideways as he added something that sounded like a mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"No," she said, more sharply than she'd intended. She winced inwardly when his head came up and he froze, wide-eyed, but no. After what she'd seen, she wasn't going to let him do that. Not tonight. Sharon clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from clenching into angry fists. "You're not responsible for her."

"No," he said. "I—I know. But just... I wish you hadn't had to go through all that trouble. That's all I meant."

"It was no trouble."

His mouth opened and then slowly closed again, his face uncertain.

Sharon wondered what her own expression looked like.

"Rusty." She leaned forward, her fingers still clasped tightly together to keep herself from reaching for him. She didn't want to do this to him. She'd tried so hard to let him have his privacy, to make him believe that he didn't have to share anything with her that he didn't want to. She'd also promised that she'd never lie to him. "If you don't already know, you should be aware that interactions between inmates and their visitors are recorded."

"What, like videotaped?"

"Yes," she said. "And you should also know that before I went to speak with her, I watched the recording of your visit with your mother."

She knew the moment that sunk in. His eyes widened and he fixed her with a horrified sort of look, his face twisting into a grimace. He took several steps back, retreating away from the counter to hover near the sink.

"You did?"

"Yes."

He cringed. "All of it?"

"Yes."

"So you know..."

"I do."

God.

Lieutenant Provenza hadn't told her the full story until after they'd wrapped up their case. She was grateful for that now, because Kate Sherman's rescue couldn't have been put on hold while Sharon took a quick trip over to county jail to calmly shoot Rusty's so-called mother in the head. It was a lucky thing that when she'd made it over there, Sharon had been unarmed and a thick wall of glass had separated her from the woman who had harmed her child.

It would be a long time before she put the anguish in Rusty's voice out of her mind.

"I—I can explain."

And she'd thought her heart couldn't possibly ache for him any more than it already did. "Rusty..."

"Wait," he said, holding up his hands. "Just... just wait a minute, okay, Sharon?"

There was pride in her heart too. He would have been shouting by now, once. Once, he would have tried to handle this sort of situation on his own. Instead, he had brought his problems to Lieutenant Provenza and he was talking to her. He'd grown so, so much.

"I know it's not my fault," he said at last. "I do know that."

As much as it was possible for him to know. There were still so many years of guilt and shame that he carried around with him. Sharon knew that it would be easier with the passage of time, but... She'd had more than twenty years, almost twenty-five now, and there were still moments when against all reason, she wondered if there had been something she hadn't tried, that there had to have been something she could have done differently.

If she could have taken his pain into herself, she would have done it.

"I'm glad," she said quietly. "Because it is _not_ your fault."

"I just... when she called, I thought that maybe..." He looked away, and she could see him swallow, struggling to accept the ugly truth "I guess not. I kinda wish I hadn't gone to see her."

So did she. She'd made Buzz play the recording over from the beginning.

She'd missed most of it, the first time around. It had taken too long for her to realize what she was hearing, and then she had stood frozen, hardly able to breathe, her angry heartbeat pulsing in her ears and tasting bile in her mouth. She had _said_...

To her _child_...

To _Sharon's_ child...

_How?_

_How could she_ became _how dare she_ the second time around, and Sharon had left the electronics room without a word to anyone and headed straight for the district attorney's office. When she'd called Lieutenant Provenza afterwards, on her way home from county, he'd expressed a significant amount of surprise to learn that sharon Beck had survived their encounter.

_"What'd you threaten her with?"_

_"You know me better than that, Lieutenant. I don't make threats. I make deals." _

He'd been satisfied with that and promised to pass the news on to Buzz.

"So how long does she have to stay in jail?"

She could _see_ Rusty brace himself, squaring his shoulders and stiffening his spine.

"One year," she told him. "If she follows the rules I spelled out for her. Otherwise, seven, and there's nothing anyone can do about that."

"We both know she's gonna screw it up." He said it so matter-of-factly she wanted to cry, and then he tried to smile afterwards. "Especially if _you_ made the rules." He couldn't hold the smile for long. "But... Sharon?"

She waited.

"Whatever you told her to do, she really isn't going to do it," he told her seriously. "So, like... if her messing up will get you in trouble somehow, maybe you should just go and... take it back somehow."

Her hands were beginning to go numb. Sharon rubbed the tips of her thumbs together, her hands still knit together. "No," she said, and hoped her voice sounded even to him. "You don't need to worry about that."

"Are you sure, though?"

"Extremely."

That mollified him, some. "I'm going to go see her again."

_What_.

No.

_No._

"Don't freak out," he said, too late to prevent an unpleasant spike in her blood pressure. "It's not like that. I don't want to, like, _visit_ her. I just need to tell her something."

Still.

"Are you sure, Rusty?"

He nodded. "I just want her to know something. That's all, Sharon, I swear."

She allowed herself to breathe again. If he'd wanted to visit her regularly, she didn't know what she would've done. It was his right to do so, of course, and if he'd decided that he was okay subjecting himself to her, there would have been nothing she could do to stop him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I went to see her."

She shook her head. "You don't need to apologize for that."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd want to come with me," he said. "And I wanted to see her myself first. But..." he trailed off. "You probably don't want to, and that's _okay_, because you've already done like, way, _way_ more than I was going to ask you to and I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate it, or—"

"Rusty."

"Would you come with me? I—I mean," he added, before she had a chance to process that, "not _with_ me, but when my mom was in rehab and you said you'd come and wait outside? Could you do that, maybe?"

When had this happened? When had he learned to ask for what he needed?

Sharon nodded. "Of course I will."

"Really? Because that would help. I think."

"Why the change of heart?" She prodded just a little, but she wouldn't press it if he didn't want to tell her.

"It's just that... it didn't really go so well last time," he said. "And I don't think it's going to go very well this time, either."

"Rusty." She frowned at him. "You know that you don't owe your mother a thing. If you don't want to—"

"I want her to know you're adopting me," he said, and of all the things he could've said, that one surprised her. "In case it ever really matters to her, I want her to know that I'll be okay."

God.

_Rusty._

"And—" She saw his lip quiver and he hugged his arms to his chest, but he held his head up. "I want her to know that I love her, because I said some things before, and that's... it's not how I want to say goodbye."

Sharon could hardly swallow this time. She shifted in her seat, biting down on the inside of her lip until it hurt, and rubbed her forehead, the composure that she'd worked so hard to maintain slipping away. "I can help with that," she said, her voice thicker than she wanted but steady.

His eyes looked bright even after she'd blinked away her own tears.

Sharon took another breath, and then another, and by the time it felt a little less like her heart was being squeezed from the inside out, Rusty had moved back to finish slicing the vegetables he'd abandoned when she'd walked through the door. He didn't say anything else, clearly done with the conversation, and Sharon had said everything she'd needed to say earlier. It wasn't enough. It would never _be_ enough, but it was all she could do.

She stepped down from the stool. "I'll be right back to help you," she said. White blouses and cooking did not mix.

She reached across the counter, surrendering to the impulse to brush his bangs out of his eyes as she passed him. He'd been letting her touch him more and more recently. Before Ricky, but more after. Rusty ducked his head when she tried to smooth his hair back, but he was smiling.

"Sharon?"

She turned back to find him hesitating. "Yes?"

"You said you watched the whole thing?"

She nodded without speaking, unsure of where this was going.

"The thing she said about you," he said, lowering his eyes. "That's probably the only true thing she's ever told me."

She had to think to remember, because _do you still do that work you did?_ had been the only thing running through her mind for hours.

Comprehension dawned a moment later. Rusty's head came up, their eyes meeting as he tried to be sure that she understood.

Sharon gave him a little nod and turned away because he was so obviously uncomfortable, not sure whether she wanted to cry or smile.

_She loves you_.


End file.
